


How He Did It

by StarSpangledBucky



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Fluff, John is alive, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Sequel, Sherlock Loves John, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-02-04 18:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1789027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/pseuds/StarSpangledBucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been two years since John’s death, and Sherlock has moved on. He still lives in Baker Street, busying himself with new cases and spending time with Molly and Greg. His entire character had changed since John died, he still acted like the same sociopathic detective during cases, yet behind closed doors he was a new man. What happens when his past comes back to haunt him and an unexpected guest shows up at Molly’s birthday party? For Sherlock, it’s the biggest shock of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How He Did It

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to Dear Sherlock. Basically, it’s a plot twist, what if John faked his death and Sherlock had to live with the guilt and pain. It's M obviously for the mention of a suicidal sort of event that takes place but of course it won't happen because that would just make it sad. Plus there's mentions of heavy drinking etc.

“So you’ll come?” Molly spoke, placing a coffee down for Sherlock  
  
“Absolutely Molly,” Sherlock answered, with a small smile of thanks.  
  
Molly nodded with a timid smile before she made her way back to the door. Sherlock spent a lot of his time at St. Barts, even if it meant just socialising with Molly. He’d become a changed man ever since John had died two years ago. He realised how precious life was, now, he cherished every moment with his friends.  
  
“Sherlock...” Molly whispered, turning back from the door.  
  
“Yes?” Sherlock replied, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“You don’t have to...you know, act like everything is okay and be someone you aren’t,” she answered.  
  
Sherlock blinked twice before creasing his brow as he stared at Molly quizzically.  
  
“I am a...changed man Molly, ever since-” he paused. “Ever since-” he stopped yet again, a few tears brimming in his eyes.  
  
“Sherlock,” Molly soothed.  
  
“Ever since John died I haven’t been alright. It’s not alright! It wasn’t meant to be like this! Nothing is the same I miss my blogger! Why does everything have to be so bloody hard!” he yelled, hitting the trays beside him as they clattered to the floor, causing Molly to jump a little.  
  
“It’s okay to be upset Sherlock,” Molly mused.  
  
oh Jesus-I need him here!” Sherlock roared, dropping his head in his hands.  
  
“I’ll just leave you alone for a while,” Molly sighed, disappearing out of the door.  
  
Sherlock listened to her footsteps disappear down the hallway before he broke down. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to mask the choked sobs emitting from his lips. He hated to act so strong, he was hurting inside. It had been two years, but he was as weak as anything. He’d kept his feelings to himself, now it was too late to say anything. Some nights he would dream of John and they would be his kind of paradise. Most other nights, well...Sherlock would wake up screaming, sweating and sobbing. Fortunately he did not wake Mrs Hudson up, he would hate to be a huge burden to her. That’s how Sherlock felt inside when he was around people...a burden, a man with no sense of direction, a man...with a broken heart.  
  
“John, John, John,” he chanted quietly. “If only you were here. You would tell me to pull my bloody head in and get my arse moving,” the detective sighed. “You’d call me an absolute bastard and get on with it. But you’d still smile at me, you would still stay by my side,” he continued. “Christ John, I would give anything to have you here,” he added, wiping the stray tears from his eyes.  
  
Suddenly, Sherlock’s phone chimed and he fished it out of his pocket and stared at the screen.  
  
 ** _‘Are you busy? I could use some help in getting a present for Molly.’ - GL_**  
  
Sherlock smirked slightly as he typed a reply.  
  
 _ **‘I take it Miss Molly Hooper will be treated to something rather exquisite from you Graham.’ - SH  
  
‘Greg...’ - GL  
  
‘Yes of course, sorry.’ - SH  
  
‘It’s alright. Now, answer my question, are you busy?’ - GL  
  
‘Not at all, meet me outside St. Barts in ten minutes.’ - SH**_  
  
“I’m already here,” a voice spoke.  
  
Sherlock flinched as he turned his head to the side and saw Greg standing in the room, his hands tucked into his pockets.  
  
“Greg,” Sherlock replied, with a small smile.  
  
“Finally he gets it right!” Greg exclaimed, with a low chuckle. “Right, are we going or not?” he continued.  
  
“Yes absolutely,” the detective answered, getting up from his seat as he grabbed his coat and scarf.  
  
Greg stood and eyed Sherlock with curiosity, taking note of the redness around his eyes and the tear stains on his cheeks. The detective inspector was there for Sherlock ever since the day John had died. He had become somewhat of a brother to Sherlock, seeing as Sherlock and Mycroft were still slightly conflicted by each others presence. Sherlock wrapped his scarf around his neck before approaching Greg, who suddenly brought Sherlock into a tight embrace.  
  
“He would be proud of you y’know,” he mumbled.  
  
“I know,” Sherlock replied, returning the friendly gesture.  
  
The pair pulled away just as Molly entered the room again, a raised eyebrow following after.  
  
“Did I miss something?” she questioned.  
  
“Just, giving Sherlock a bit of helpful advice,” Greg replied.  
  
“Alright, well um, where are you off to?” Molly asked.  
  
“Surprise,” Sherlock interjected, before slipping out of the door and making his way down the hallway.  
  
He turned at the wrong time, catching a glimpse of Molly leaning up to give Greg a small kiss on the cheek, a smile growing on her face as Greg held her close to him. Sherlock was jealous, it was fairly obvious, mainly in his eyes and his body language. When he saw any type of couple related things happening, his body goes rigid, his eyes glaze over and he feels his heart literally drop to his stomach, physically it makes him feel sick. Sherlock was never one to be so emotional nor affectionate, but his time with John certainly changed all that.  
  
“Ready to go Sherlock?” Greg’s voice interjected.  
  
“Hmm? Oh, yes,” Sherlock replied, coming out of his trance.  
  
Greg raised an eyebrow questioningly but Sherlock simply shook his head as he turned away and opened the door, holding it open for Greg. The pair quietly walked down to the main lobby in St. Barts before exiting the building, coming out into the crisp cool air of London. Greg still stayed silent as he opened his car door for Sherlock and the detective got inside, mumbling a quiet thanks to his friend, before settling himself into the seat. As Greg made his way around to the driver’s side, Sherlock pulled out a small photo from his pocket. He gazed at the photo of himself and John, it was taken on Sherlock’s birthday two years ago, for Sherlock it was a good day and he had John to thank for that.  
  
“So where should we start?” Greg spoke, interrupting Sherlock’s train of thoughts, yet again.  
  
“Anywhere,” Sherlock mumbled, putting the photo back in his pocket.  
  
“Alright then,” Greg replied, side glancing at Sherlock before starting the car.  
  
Sherlock simply wanted to be left in his own little world. Why today? Why today of all days did he have to be haunted by the past? He had a busy night to come with Molly’s birthday party and he was acting like a miserable sod. All he could do was put on his brave face and try to not be so down so not to ruin Molly’s night. If only he could forget his past for one night...just one. 

* * *

“I think I’ll surprise him,” John spoke fondly.  
  
“John,” Mary sighed, staring across the table at him. “You do know what you are going into yes?” she questioned.  
  
John stared back at Mary, the gears in his mind were grinding very slowly as he tried to think of a smart response.  
  
“You don’t have a clue do you?” she huffed.  
  
“What else am I supposed to do?” John replied.  
  
“Turning up at a friend’s party where there will be others is a little bit of an awkward situation,” Mary lectured.  
  
“Molly knows I’m alive, so does Greg...and Mrs Hudson,” John mumbled.  
  
“And Mycroft I believe,” Mary added.  
  
John had spent two years in hiding after that night with Moriarty. He knew that the criminal was not going to go easy and would take away the one person that mattered the most to Sherlock. So, Sherlock faked his death, and now here he was over the other side of London staying with Mary Morstan for the past two years. He had to wait until Moriarty had been dealt with. Eventually the call came from Mycroft telling John that Moriarty was deceased, as well as all of his men. Now John was waiting for the perfect moment to come back into Sherlock’s life, which he decided would be tonight at Molly’s party.  
  
“Mycroft helped me,” John sighed.  
  
“He lied to his brother, as much as those two despise each other sometimes I don’t think Mycroft appreciated lying to his own flesh and blood,” Mary scolded.  
  
“DAMN WHAT MYCROFT THINKS!” John roared, slamming his fist on the table, causing Mary to flinch.  
  
“John,” she soothed.  
  
“No Mary,” John spat. “This is about Sherlock, I can’t put him through anymore pain. I-I can’t,” he wavered. “Molly has been keeping me updated, for a year after I died he smoked and drank himself near death. I can’t let him relapse like that, that’s not who Sherlock is,” he added.  
  
Mary reached across the table as she took John’s hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.  
  
“I think you’ll find that Sherlock is a changed man, but in a good way. He’s more wary of those around him, he cares about them. He spends a lot of time with Molly and Greg now, as well as Mrs Hudson,” she replied.  
  
“And that’s exactly how I want him to stay,” John muttered.  
  
Mary nodded as she sat back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
“So are you just going to walk in there and be like suprise!” Mary asked.  
  
“No of course not, I’ll make a quiet entrance, despite how awkward it might be,” John answered, picking up the newspaper.  
  
“Well you better call me and tell me how it goes,” Mary mused, before standing up as she made her way into the kitchen.  
  
John rolled his eyes as he opened up the newspaper, scanning his eyes across the pages. He heard his phone go off in his bedroom so he quickly stood up and made his way there, accidentally knocking his leg on the way through, hissing quietly. His eyes scanned the room as he locked on his phone, making his way over to his bed. He sat down and unlocked it, scanning his eyes over the new message that had popped up.  
  
 ** _‘When will Sherlock be expecting your return?’ - MH_**  
  
John sighed as he typed a reply, his fingers working quickly on the buttons.  
  
 ** _‘He won’t know until I get there. But I am going tonight at Molly Hooper’s party.’ - JW  
  
‘I hope you know what you’re doing.’ - MH  
  
‘You sound like Mary.’ - JW  
  
‘My brother has been fragile since your death. I think your return will bring him a great deal of shock.’ - MH  
  
‘I’ll fix that.’ - JW  
  
‘Good luck.’ - MH_**  
  
He didn’t bother replying, because he didn’t know what to say. Perhaps ‘thank you’ but as he tried to type it he couldn’t, a thank you didn’t seem fitting. John sat his phone down as he stared at the wall across the room which had a few photos of himself and Sherlock, as well as Molly, Greg, Mrs Hudson and also Mycroft. They were memories from the years John spent with Sherlock, cherished treasures and it kept John going until he was able to return.  
  
“John?” Mary’s voice called.  
  
“Yes?” John replied loudly.  
  
“Are you going to tell him?” she questioned, appearing in the doorway.  
  
“Tell him? Tell him what?” John asked.  
  
“That you love him,” Mary huffed, nudging John’s shoulder.  
  
“Possibly,” John mumbled.  
  
“John...” Mary whined gruffly.  
  
“If it seems like the right time. I will. But for now, I’m not so sure,” John sighed, looking at Mary.  
  
“I’ll be right by your side, I promise,” Mary whispered, giving John’s arm a squeeze.  
  
The army doctor simply nodded as he watched Mary leave the room, before falling back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wanted to be honest with Sherlock and tell him how he truly felt. Yet a part of him was telling him not to. He would have to find out later. John could only hope that things went smoothly...he couldn’t wait to see his best friend again. 

* * *

“SURPRISE!” voices hollered, as lights were switched on.  
  
“Oh my god! Oh...you guys!” Molly chuckled, staring at the people before her.  
  
Sherlock, Mrs Hudson, Greg, Mary and Mycroft were standing inside Molly’s living room with silly party hats on and streamers hanging around their necks. A few of them let off some poppers as Molly shrugged her jacket off to reveal a fitting black knee length dress, causing Greg’s eyes to widen.  
  
“So that’s what took you so long,” he spoke fondly.  
  
“Greg!” Mrs Hudson exclaimed, slapping him on the arm. “Leave her alone, she looks lovely,” she added.  
  
“Yes, quite beautiful,” Sherlock mused, a small smile on his face.  
  
“Thank you,” Molly whispered, a small blush on her face. “I didn’t expect you all here before me,” she continued.  
  
“We were all ready fairly early so we decided to set up the room for you,” Mary spoke, handing some champagne to Molly. “Cheers,” she mused, clinking glasses with Molly.  
  
“Cheers!” the others jeered, clinking glasses with each other.  
  
Sherlock gave Molly a friendly yet warm embrace before handing her the present he picked for her, even if he didn’t wrap it. It was a cashmere scarf with a caramel brown colour to it with some silver through it. Molly ran her hands over the fabric and smiled as she looked back at Sherlock.  
  
“Thank you so much,” she soothed, pulling Sherlock in for another hug.  
  
“You’re welcome,” Sherlock replied, before the pair pulled away.  
  
The detective grabbed a glass of champagne also, earning a wary look from his friends before he shook his head in a way to say ‘I won’t drink a lot, trust me’ which seemed to work. Yet he was being honest about it, he only really felt like having one or two, then that would be him. Sherlock walked off to mingle with Mrs Hudson and Mycroft who were talking over at the fireplace, his back turned to everyone else. Greg gave Molly her present and her eyes almost bulged out of her head when she saw a very expensive bracelet and necklace set in a shining sterling silver. The couple exchanged a quick kiss, a few coos coming from those around them at how sweet it was.  
  
“Brother mine, I hope you will only be having one drink,” Mycroft mused.  
  
“Perhaps two, but no more than that,” Sherlock mumbled.  
  
No one had even heard the faint sound of footsteps, except for Mary who was looking over at the door, before whispering to Molly and Greg who turned their heads also. The room fell silent and Sherlock raised an eyebrow at his landlady and older brother.  
  
“Hello everyone, sorry I’m late,” a voice hummed.  
  
Sherlock’s body went rigid at the sound, the voice that haunted him in his dreams. It was John’s voice and it sounded all too close, and far too real. Ever so slowly, he turned around, grip tightening on the glass as his heart pounded erratically. He felt his heart jolt when he came face to face with his best friend...his ‘dead’ best friend.  
  
“Hello Sherlock,” John spoke.  
  
The detective stared stunned, as if time had slowed, the only sound coursing through his ears was the sound of his rising heart and his laboured breathing. The glass in his hand slipped from his grip as it smashed on the floor, yet Sherlock took no mind. His eyes glazed over as he continued to stare at John, his mouth going dry.  
  
“John?” he choked out, with a whine.  
  
John nodded slowly as he sat his jacket to the side, taking a step towards Sherlock. Everyone else simply watched as John now stood directly in front of the younger man, his lips twitching into a smile.  
  
“I know that...this is crazy. But, you have to let me explain. It is real I assure you, you aren’t dreaming Sherlock. And I-I’m really sorry, but please, please give me a chance to expla-” he stopped abruptly, as Sherlock’s hand came into contact with his face.  
  
“Two bloody years John. Two. Long. Painful. YEARS!” Sherlock roared, throwing his hands in the air. “Do you have any idea what you have caused! Do you?” he spat, his eyes blazing with anger.  
  
“Sherlock I-” John spoke, before pausing.  
  
“No, don’t. John please, don’t give me your bollocks!” Sherlock screamed. “I nearly died because of you, because I-I...oh what does it matter! How could you do this?” he continued, tears streaming down his face.  
  
“I’m sorry Sherlock,” John whispered.  
  
Sherlock shook his head as he took in a deep breath, resting his fingertips under his chin.  
  
“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” he growled, before moving around John.  
  
“Sherlock!” the army doctor yelled.  
  
“Leave me alone! All of you, don’t...don’t come after me,” he wavered, grabbing his coat from the couch and disappearing out of the door.  
  
John flinched when he heard the front door slam shut, his cheek throbbing from the slap he’d been given.  
  
“Sherlock certainly packs a punch,” Greg spoke suddenly.  
  
“Greg,” Molly scolded, putting her drink down as she approached John.  
  
“I warned you John,” Mycroft issued, tilting his head slightly.  
  
“I know, I know, it was stupid,” John whispered, his eyes watering slightly.  
  
There was a moment of silence before Mrs Hudson approached John.  
  
“Don’t bloody stand there, go after him,” she lectured, squeezing John’s arm.  
  
John didn’t reply, he simply turned around, grabbed his coat and high tailed it out of Molly’s house. By the time he got outside, there was no sign of Sherlock, except for the obvious footprints in the snow that began to fall that night. John cautiously followed the trail, making sure that he didn’t step on any of the footprints. He was going to find Sherlock. He was going to fix this. Maybe he would even tell Sherlock how he feels.

* * *

Sherlock was gone for hours and John was slowly beginning to give up hope. He decided to take a quicker route back to Baker Street in case the detective was there. John would have gone to Baker Street first but figured that Sherlock was smarter than that and would have gone somewhere else. As he walked across the Westminster Bridge his mind reeled with places on where Sherlock might be. It wasn’t until John lifted his head that he saw the familiar shape of a Belstaff coat.  
  
“Sherlock?” he whispered, voice cracking. “SHERLOCK!” he yelled.  
  
The detective turned his head at the sound of his name, seeing John making his way up to him. His cheeks were stained with tears and his eyes were bloodshot, his face pale from the sickening feeling he was receiving.  
  
“Don’t come any further John,” he warned, choking on a sob.  
  
“Sherlock get down right now!” John roared, walking faster.  
  
“You did this John! You did this to me!” Sherlock hollered.  
  
“I didn’t mean to hurt you Sherlock! I did it for you! I did it to protect you!” John screamed.  
  
“Protect me?” Sherlock replied. “Oh,” he chuckled. “Oh that is rich John...what could you possibly have to protect me from?” he spat, hands clenching into fists.  
  
“Moriarty,” John answered, his eyes locked on Sherlock’s.  
  
Sherlock stared at John, his facial expressions softening as he loosened the grip on his fists.  
  
“What?” he hissed.  
  
“Moriarty. He was going to kill you if I lived. I went into hiding and I waited and waited until Moriarty and his men were taken care of,” John replied, stepping forward again.  
  
“Who knew?” Sherlock asked.  
  
“Molly, Greg, Mrs Hudson,” he answered, watching Sherlock’s eyes begin to well up again as he let out a shuddered breath. “And-” he paused, closing his eyes as he sucked in a breath.  
  
“And?” Sherlock questioned shakily. “Come on John, who else could po-” he paused, his eyes widening at the sudden realisation.  
  
“I’m sorry Sherlock. Please, I really am,” John begged.  
  
“Mycroft...” Sherlock whispered. “MYCROFT KNEW!” he yelled, swinging his body around.  
  
It was a quick and thoughtless mistake, anyone could have noticed it. Sherlock’s foot slipped on the edge, his facial expression turning to that of fear.  
  
“SHERLOCK NO!” John roared, lunging forward.  
  
Sherlock and John’s hands came out quickly before you could say ‘they’re taking the Hobbits to Isengard!’ in a flash. Their hands grasped tightly around each other’s as John’s other hand gripped onto Sherlock’s coat. Sherlock’s breathing was hysteric, his eyes scrunched shut as the tears streamed down his cheeks.  
  
“I’ve got you Sherlock, it’s alright!” John exclaimed, his grip tightening on him.  
  
John groaned as he pulled back, using all his strength to bring Sherlock back up, his arm quickly moving around Sherlock’s waist. The detective stepped off the ledge, collapsing to his knees as John knelt down with him, his arms wrapped securely around his fragile best friend.  
  
“I-I’m sorry. I’m so s-sorry,” Sherlock sobbed, his shoulders shaking slightly.  
  
“It’s alright, just stay right here, everything will be fine,” John soothed, his hands grasping the fabric of Sherlock’s coat.  
  
Sherlock’s forehead rested on John’s shoulder as he let out a shaky, sobbing breath, his hands gripped to John’s jacket. He couldn’t believe how close of a call that was, how close he was to death. He couldn’t believe he had even done such a thing. What kind of a person does that make him getting upset over what John did to only go and somewhat of a similar thing except make it permanent.  
  
“I thought you were dead, John,” he choked out.  
  
“If you had let me explain none of this would have happened,” John hummed.  
  
“I was so angry John...so angry with you,” Sherlock whispered.  
  
“I know Sherlock, but I did it, all of it...for you,” John answered, pulling away slightly.  
  
Sherlock tilted his head up, making eye contact with John as the pair of them stared at each other. Tears were welling in both of their eyes as John’s thumb came up to wipe any that ran down Sherlock’s cheek. The detective’s heart was pounding in his chase as he took note of how close the pair of them were. Not to mention, the distance between their lips was short enough for them to be mistaken for a kissing couple.  
  
“John, there's something I should say, I've meant to say always and I never have,” Sherlock spoke softly, swallowing the lump in his throat.  
  
John raised one eyebrow curiously, his breathing slow and calm. He couldn’t help but take note of how dilated Sherlock’s pupils were. They were so full that the bright blue of his iris’ was almost gone.  
  
“I love you,” he confessed, turning his gaze away from John.  
  
His mind was reeling, he didn’t want to screw this up. He knew the risk was a big one to take, but he had to say it. Sherlock Holmes, couldn’t hold in his feelings...not anymore.  
  
“Hey, listen...” John soothed, his hand coming up under Sherlock’s jaw as he pulled him back to face him. “I love you too,” he added.  
  
Sherlock’s eyes widened as John let out a low chuckle, his smile growing wider as Sherlock stared at him in awe.  
  
“I-really?” Sherlock questioned.  
  
“Really,” John answered, grinning.  
  
Sherlock let out a short laugh as his hands came up to hold John’s face in his hands. The pair gazed at each other lovingly as they let out small laughs, before it turned into absolute hysterics. They had no idea why they were laughing, but Sherlock nor John minded, they adored each other’s laughs. Once they had calmed down Sherlock ran his thumb across John’s tear stained cheek.  
  
“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his cupid bow lips parted slightly.  
  
“You don’t have to ask,” John whispered.  
  
The detective grinned at his blogger, leaning forward slightly as his lips brushed against John’s. Their eyelids dipped slightly as Sherlock caught John’s lips in his, closing his eyes completely. John’s heart swelled as he kissed Sherlock back with ever ounce of emotion he had, losing himself in the kiss. Their lips slotted perfectly together, despite being completely new to this kind of thing, they moved in perfect sync. It wasn’t long before John pulled away slowly for some air, opening his eyes as he glanced into Sherlock’s.  
  
“Shall we get back to Molly’s party and celebrate?” John questioned.  
  
“Yes of course, poor girl,” Sherlock replied, with a small smile.

He got to his feet slowly, holding his hand out to John as he helped him up.

“By the way, you never told me how you did it,” Sherlock huffed.

“Later,” John whispered.

The pair shared another quick kiss before Sherlock held his hand out to John.

“People will talk Sherlock,” John teased.

“Let them,” Sherlock purred, glancing at John with a lopsided smile.

John laughed as he laced his fingers through Sherlock’s, giving his hand a gentle squeeze to assure him it was all real. With it all sorted, John and Sherlock made their journey back to Molly’s, hand in hand and in complete and utter happiness. Sherlock had his best friend back, and now he was his lover, his work.  
  
 _“The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins. Just the two of us against the rest of the world.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I'll leave you to figure out how John lived ;)


End file.
